The King of Gryffindor
by UnHalfWritten
Summary: Harry Potter, a child is now the king of Gryffindor; a starving and worn nation. During the violent and loosing war with Slytherin, he must sacrifice his innocence to save the people and land from a terrible fate. However, when the two opposing kings meet, Harry discovers what a complex yet evil being Tom Riddle is. A merciless king that is more like Harry than he ever anticipated
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter one**- **The King of Gryffindor**

The sound of a babies wail sliced through the airy dreams of Lily Potter who awoke instantly. It was not the crying that woke her, but her mother's intuition sensing something was wrong. The niggling sensation spread worry through the pit of her stomach and she arose out of the warm quilt cautiously as not to wake the other inhabitant of her bed. She peered down at her husband sleeping and was relaxed by the sight of his calmed sleep. The strong man she loved would not let anything happen to her or their son; nor would the castle which had enough strength to protect them. It had been almost a year since Harry was born and the celebrations had only just about stopped. The people rejoiced that not only an heir was born to secure the throne; but they were happy for the king and queen who have little to none blood relatives left to begin a family. Lily along with the people had fretted that the abrupt death of James' grandfather (his only living relative) would shake his unwavering and righteous conviction. Although James had mourned for days; he had grown stronger and more aware of his family and role as king.

Their son was of great resemblance to her husband even at the tender ages of babyhood. Lily gently scooped the crying infant onto her shoulder and rubbed relaxing circles onto his small back. The Gryffindor castle had been the location of all the Potters upbringings. Harry's room had no doubt been the room James had been tended to as an infant. The babe continued crying despite his mother's touch which was an unusual occurrence. Lily could have hired maids to cater to and bring up her son. She heard this was a common practice in the royal families of Ravenclaw and Slytherin. Yet she sought to raise him herself as she thought it was an important role for a mother and a mother only; even if it meant waking at early hours of the morning to tend to her son.

Harry continued crying and this worried the queen as he normally would have ceased by now. She removed the baby from her shoulder and inspected the boy for any sort of injury or sign of illness. The icy brisk air numbed the tips of her fingers and exposed feet which made the feeling disappear from her skin. Lily noted that the fire was long burnt out and that Harry was stone cold in her arms. The window was wide open, letting the cold air float inwards, causing the red velvet curtains to flutter. Perhaps one of the maids left it open?

Lily suddenly felt very exposed and vulnerable standing alone in the dark room. She sensed eyes upon her and the Queen's heart hammered in her chest as her eyes searched the room for any hint of movement, through the open window, behind the crib and chairs. Alas, there was nothing. Harry seemed to be crying louder and started struggling within her arms.

Was all this figments from her imagination? She didn't know what to do. Her lungs felt compressed with panic as her gut instinct told her to run. Sprint as fast as her legs could carry her away from this room. However her legs couldn't move. The wooden door slowly creaked open and the ominous figure made Lily freeze with fear. Adrenaline pumped through her veins and illogical theories filled her mind at lightning speed.

Whoever they were, they would not get to Harry. She could not scream because it was difficult to open her mouth; like someone had gagged her. When the minimal light from the coals and ember at the fireplace hit the man's face, she felt relief pour through her like warm milk. It was only James entering the chamber.

"James, what are you doing up?"

He did not reply and Lily thought he had not heard her over the continuous wails from their child.

"It's ok! I can take care of Harry. He's just acting up a little." She assured louder than before.

James smiled and walked towards her with his arms stretched out to her almost longingly. Lily was close to running and embracing him as to rejuvenate her senses from the shock of fear only moments before but something stopped her when she glimpsed into his brown eyes. The Queen's heart stopped. Her lover's eyes were lacking light. A glimmer that showed that life was still present was vacant from his normally mischievous orbs. Sorrow inundated her body. This was not her husband.

Before her husband's outstretched hands could reach her, Lily saw the fighting eyes of her lover once last time, the same eyes which gazed lovingly at her every time their eyes met. The same eyes which displayed pure joy when Harry was born or the mischievous and boyish glint they held when they met as children... were empty. Lily felt wet and warm tears fall from her eyes; they dripped onto the floor simultaneously with the thud of the body of her best friend, lover, and most cherished soul in the entire word. Lily knew that the beloved king of Gryffindor was dead.

She was confident humans could not explode, but there was no other way to describe her anguish. The unfamiliar emotions came rushing through her skull and sanity; inundating everything. Flashes of her poor childhood which consisted of sitting high in the oak tree and wishing to fly. Viewing the boy she loved for the first time. She did not hold back her scream; conquering the imaginary restraints enclosed upon her mouth. The Queen did not know what was going on, she was not aware of what was up or down. The wails of her son faded into the background as her eyes were fixed onto the blurry image of the body of husband.

A blinding green light dazed her, and she saw her husband again. James was warm and he hugged her tightly, she felt overcome and deliriously happy. She cried into his chest and wrapped her arms so tightly around him that it would be impossible to ever separate them again. Lily decided that this was the happiest moment of her life. Lily thought it was impossible to see someone she had lost again; but the ones that she had surrounded her. However, there was something missing from her breast. When she looked down the warmth died. Lily felt cold and she and James began sobbing. Where was Harry?

Harry James Potter at that moment became king of Gryffindor; at the age of one was the youngest king in history, wailing in his dead mothers embrace.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2 – The feast**

Harry Potter groaned loudly when Edith banged loudly on his door, signalling that he should arise to begin cleaning. His hands were sore, limbs tired and body ached from the constant and strenuous labour of this week. To top things off he had only gotten a few hours of sleep that night. It was the fault of his strange and frightening recurring nightmare that kept him up or as Edith complained, kept the other servants awake for hours. Whenever he awoke from one of these nightmares, the lightning bolt scar he acquired as a child seared with pain. Edith reassured this was only a part of his imagination and the pain was after-shock from such vivid nightmares.

A good night slumber was important for this week as the normal amount of labour had almost tripled. The King and Queen were planning a colourful and bountiful feast which required an extensive amount of preparing. Cleaning and cooking were the main roles servants like Harry performed and the feast was tonight. This meant the labour completed this week was only the tip of the iceberg compared to what was in stall for today.

Harry overcame his reluctance to rise and slipped on his circular glasses; which cleared his blurry vision and cleaned the corners of his eyesight. He dressed quickly and ran through the corridors and descended flights of stairs into the kitchen. It was crowded with the older women cutting vegetables, baking apple pies and preparing an assortment of diverse types of food. If they were lucky, the nobles would not eat as much as prepared and the servants would be able to eat their scraps. Edith was already starting the insurmountable amount of dishes and Harry joined her with a rag in hand.

Harry was the only boy working within the maid-servants which were all relatively older women. The other males his age employed in the gardens questioned why he was performing such work. Harry didn't think they understood how hard cleaning was. King Vernon and Queen Petunia had also written a royal document entailing that he was to never leave the castle walls or dire consequences would follow. Harry understood why. If he left the castle, there is no doubt someone would recognise him and make a direct correlation to his parents.

One unexpected day he was spoken to by the King and Queen of Gryffindor; not just a complaint or an order but an actual conversation. This was concerning his parents which were a subject that he was desperately curious about. Harry hadn't enjoyed it as much as the thought made him buzz. They were rude and not very nice people in general. But Harry appreciated what they had done for him.

It came as a spectacular surprise that he was actually their nephew. Who would have thought that he was royalty! But they then told him that his parents were drunkards and their close blood connection with the throne brought disrespect for the royal lineage. They died while they were drunk of course. Killed by being crushed by a moving carriage with Harry in their arms; hence the scar on his forehead. Lily and James brought disrespect onto the kingdom and King Vernon and Queen Petunia had done all they could to try and blot his parents out of existence.

Their son was the most blinding evidence one could ask for; which was why he was to never leave. Harry was glad (although his uncle and aunt are horrible people) that they let him work here and be able to enjoy shelter, food and water where the kingdom was going through quite a recession; people were jobless and hungry. There was also a possibility someone could potentially harm him out there. He had never been spoken to fully by his aunt and uncle again, but Harry still had the memory permanently engraved into his mind.

He had become a particular target of the heir to the throne Prince Dudley Dursley who picked on him whenever they encountered each other. By either tripping him, calling him names or intentionally walking his muddy boots after horse-riding over the floors Harry had just cleaned. Although, he had overheard the other servants gossiping about how The Prince had pulled the same stunt on their clean floors also.

"I really hope it's not too much trouble young Harry, you have such a strong young body."

Not even half the dishes had been washed when Harry was called over to Agnes, one of the oldest women working in the castle whose arms and back had gotten sore while cleaning the fancy tables. He had known her ever since he could remember and was a nice old lady.

"That's ok Ms Agnes. It's no trouble."

Harry had been relieved to escape cleaning dishes as his fingers had gone wrinkly from the water and although the sensation was familiar; he would never get used to it. Harry began scrubbing the oak tabletops and Agnes helped him as best as she could.

The young boy and the old woman watched in fascination the fantastic lights and exquisite gowns from the window of the servant-quarters.

"It looks fantastic!" Harry exclaimed pointing excitedly at the glowing castle.

"This sight makes all our cleaning pay off." Agnes agreed looking down at her painful wrinkled finger joints.

"I wonder what it would be like to serve. Or even attend?"

"One of us is too young and the other too old," bemused the old woman.

"I'm not too young!"

"Ha! You're only a young chook still."

Harry ignored her comment. "Imagine eating all that delicious food. I bet Dudley is having the time of his life."

"And so much is wasted." Her hoary voice morphed in a way Harry had never witnessed coming from Ms Agnes' mouth.

"But don't we get to eat the left overs?"

"There is so much left over that the food will rot by the time we eat it. The King and Queen don't even give it to the famished."

"What do you mean?"

Agnes paused and glanced outside the castle walls.

"My family is starving. My nephew is the same age as you."

"I've heard that the people are hungry. But is it that bad?" Harry had overheard some of the servants talking about that the little money they earn goes to their hungry families.

"You are not allowed outside young boy, but that is a blessing. The rulers of this land are filthy human beings and they don't care about anyone but themselves."

Harry scanned the corridors cautiously; it was forbidden and punishable by the law to talk poorly of the King and Queen. However, the spiteful expression Ms Agnes was directing the banquet caused her to seem like she couldn't care less of the law. To him, she had always been the kind old woman that didn't insult anyone. Harry gazed into the kingdom over the fortified walls, and wondered how bad it really was. He heard Ms Agnes mumble something under her breath but decided not to ask.

"Their attempts are futile; we will always remember our devotion to a passionate ruler"


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3- The Slytherin King**

Peter was sweating profusely as he climbed the stairs. He was unsure how his legs were supporting him as he ascended each step; but it didn't really matter because this may be his last day on earth.

The short man did not know whether he was bearing good or bad news and desperately hoped it was not the latter. He had journeyed far because he had been summoned to return to the castle and give a summary on what he had witnessed in the enemy nation. A castle he was not fond of returning to. He was deployed as a mole for Slytherin. Spying on the enemy Gryffindor for little over two years now; but the whole time he had never forgotten this castle, or the king that ruled. The distinct scent and ambience of every room and corridor was still etched clearly into his mind; making it easy for him to navigate.

Pettigrew was commanded by the king to return to the nation he was born into and live amongst the working class. A mission he had initially thought was safe and simple compared to other spy missions. He had not anticipated the hopelessness waiting for him; something unexpected was happening to the brave Gryffindors.

Peter hadn't returned since he was a boy, and the abrupt change struck him harshly. Instead of streets filled with playing children, bakers cooking mouth-watering raspberry tarts, and cheerful merchants selling their goods; there was devastation.

He had lost weight. Surviving was difficult when there was no food available anywhere. The farmers gave eighty percent their produce to the King. The men and women worked long treacherous hours in horrible conditions with minimal pay. Children were forced to work in dangerous jobs with high risk of injury. Taxes were at an insane peak and impossible to pay; leaving the economy in shambles.

He did not understand the situation at first; but it soon became clear why this had happened. The death of King James, Queen Lily Potter and their son and heir Harry Potter triggered the whole ordeal. The only relatives with royal blood were Lily Potter's sister.

They had burnt and destroyed everything to make the kingdom forget about the previous rule. But who could forget? Especially when compared to a corruption-ridden hierarchy.

The royals had eyes and ears everywhere. One word said ill against them or mentioning the previous rule was considered treason and the perpetrator would be placed into harsh working prisons.

He was not an intelligent man, but he knew the nation was going to crumble. Killing and stealing would begin; and the strong bravery Gryffindor is known for will be used wrongly. The people are at their breaking point.

Peter Pettigrew stood before the large intricate door and knocked hastily upon it.

"You may enter." A calm yet chilling voice flittered through the door which caused Wormtail's knees to buckle.

Pettigrew had no idea what he was supposed to be spying for in his years in Gryffindor; only that he should be documenting the working class. He only hoped he had done the right thing.

The King of Slytherin showed no visible expression upon seeing the rat-like man but Peter kept his gaze firmly on the ground. Not desiring to meet eyes with such a lethal being. A large snake belonging to the king silvered around the room and precariously close to where Wormtail was standing.

"Tell me of the lifestyle conditions of the working class Gryffindors."

"W-worsening by the day, my king! People are d-desperate and starving and the royals are corrupt!" he gushed fearfully.

Silence filled the room and thought for sure he would be killed. When nothing happened, he curiously looked up and his eyes met with the king's.

Dark eyes looked straight into his soul, making his blood turn ice cold. The King's eyes held power and authority that suited his poised posture. A dark smile was present, corresponding with his dark eyes highlighted on pale white skin. A smile that would be engraving into his mind for the rest of his days.

"Collect the stack of papers to your right and hand them out to the poor immediately when you return."

Peter did not want to be in the presence of the king longer than necessary, and hurriedly collected the large stack of paper within his thick arms.

"You are dismissed."

The man turned around and rushed frightened to the door.

"Pettigrew." The king of Slytherin said disgustedly. "A servant is not authorised to look his master directly in the eye. I will have mercy on you just once. Next time it happens, I will kill you."

Fear stung his limbs as he stared at the floor terrified.

"Y-y-yes my king!"

Adrenaline pumped through his veins, causing him to clamber down the stairs and out the quickest route out of the castle. He could almost hear the screams from the dungeon bouncing off the stone walls where The Torturer was surely at work.

Peter breathed a sigh of relief when he arrived at the exit of the sinister castle. It was a cold and overcast day; but the air was fresh and full of moisture which calmed his alarmed heart. Subconsciously he ran his fingers over his flesh, to clutch his heart.

He could feel it thumping away; proving it was still there. His king had not stolen it while he stood before him.

The rat-man looked down at the printings within his arms and a smile formed onto his face. He had come bearing good news after all. For once, he was liberated to serve such an intelligent and power ruler; Slytherin would definitely conquer all. The past rulers were scum in juxtaposition to the current ruler. He was truly a direct descendant of the Salazar Slytherin; the father of kings.

Elegant yet bold letters declared _The Dark Arts will save you from starvation._


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4- The Forbidden Library**

Agnes was gone.

It had been a couple of days since their dangerous conversation and Harry had apprehensively waited for something to happen, yet when their eyes met the following day. She smiled normally at him and continued sweeping the floor with laboured breathes and hunched back. Although Harry had known her his whole life, he knew she was wearing down slowly. The old servant gradually become sluggish and hacked for hours in the night; so loud that Harry could hear the coughs from down the hallway. She had always been there to give Harry advice or tell him mystical stories of Robin Hood. Since her odd display of venom, he had become worried.

Early in the morning, a green light flashed behind his closed lids as a distressing nightmare scared him into consciousness. The worst one of this week. The boy felt the darkness closing in around him in his small room and arose to seek comfort for Edith who was more than willing to let the small boy sleep beside her in the undersized bed. Two beings provided much needed warmth which the ratty blankets failed to gather.

The squeaky floors creaked under his weight as he travelled up the corridor. Harry shivered in the frisk air of the early morning. Although the sky was alight in a pale blue fluorescent, the sun was yet to rise and shed its gleams onto the stone castle.

When Harry arrived in the women's quarters, the small empty bed contrasted deeply with the large expanse of sleeping bodies; ominously forcing his eyes to behold the emptiness. He knew exactly who was missing and this triggered his heart beat to contract wildly, feeling it drum within his ears. The bed was made extremely neatly as if no one had ever slept there before. It was as Agnes' very presence was stolen in the dead of night. Forgetting completely about his nightmare, Harry ran out to search eagerly for her. Guilt and worry plunged to the pit of his stomach; their conversation on the night of the feast was replaying over and over like a broken music box.

It was much later in the morning, when the sun was high and majestically shooting its rays of gold like fiery arrows plunging towards an enemy. Harry was currently headed to the front of the castle to see if one of the butlers had been informed upon the disappearance of Agnes (as no one else had). They were normally standing at the front of the castle like statues. Politely escorting nobles who sought to conference with the King.

Among all the servants employed at the castle, butlers also tended to know the most about the proceedings in the castle.

Harry sprinted around a sharp corner only to crash into something tall sending him plummeting to the ground. He heard his tailbone thump painfully within his body sending shocks up his spine. The boy hastily craned his neck upwards to comprehend who he had crashed into and nervously hoped it was not someone of importance.

When the servant witnessed the tall greasy advisor peering down at him bitterly; Harry regretted not taking appropriate caution when rounding corners. Thankfully Snape remained upright but his lip curled cruelly when he saw Harry.

"Sorry sir" the servant apologised swiftly.

"Get back to work." The royal advisor spat with a look of disgust upon his face. Sauntering away like he had smelt something utterly revolting.

The royal advisors role in the castle was to aid the king in resolving decisions and organising paperwork on the proceedings of the nation. Harry assumed that writing all day must cause someone to become cranky and easily irritable; especially regarding the advisors depressed appearance of black clothing and constantly roiled expression. Snape's hair was long; reaching up to his shoulders. It bore a small resemblance to Harry's whose locks were also dark and oily.

The servants rarely bathed. When they did, it was in a small wooden tub. The cleanest bathed first and the dirtiest last. This was so the water stayed clean and reusable for as long as possible. The stone cold water flowed over the shivering Harry uncomfortably; however he felt sorry for the gardeners after him who washed in brown, muddy water.

All of the servants (excluding the butlers) shaved their hair thinly so that it would not get in the way of working. Nor, would it become greasy or obtain lice.

Harry was no exception and had been pleased at his shaven appearance when Edith cut his coarse hair. However, by the following morning it had all grown back. Every last strand sprouted out of his scalp like turnips growing out of soil. Edith had given him a bewildered look and stroked his hair suspiciously.

"Guess the castle-pixies fancied your hair and decided to glue it back while you were asleep. Always up to mischief they are."

She believed there were little spirits residing within the Gryffindor Castle and would blame them when unfortunate events occurred. She always told him stories of mythical creatures which she read from books when she was young.

Harry was confident in saying his hair did not have lice, but his hair constantly was in the way, hanging over his eyes, yet conveniently masking his scar. The black strands were greasy and clumped together awkwardly. Harry wished the castle-pixies would give him a break and perhaps let his hair stay cut.

Snape however could bathe anytime; yet there was a permanent sheen of oil clinging to his head.

For an odd and unknown reason, Harry seemed to be the magnet of Snape's hatred. The advisor regarded the other servants with blank and passive expressions. But whenever Harry was in the room, spiteful glares were dispatched.

Harry freely shrugged their occasional encounters off and was relieved he wasn't punished. The young boy scurried off to the front area of the castle and sighted a butler who was dressed in black elegant attire, leaning tensely on a portrait of the King, obesely seating on an extravagant desk and peering down at a small letter. The butlers white gloved hand was holding a golden pocket-watch and peering at it every few seconds. The butler's head snapped in Harry's direction as his hasty footsteps were heard on the polished floors.

Harry spoke to the Butler quickly, peering up at him with large eyes of youth. "Excuse me, have you heard of a servan-"

"You should get back to the other servants now," the butler cut in appearing apprehensive and nervously looking over the small boy before him like he was transparent.

Feeling irked that he was brushed off so easily; especially when he had something important to ask, Harry swiftly countered,

"But I was just wondering if you knew about the disappearance of a servant called Agnes Weasly? Her belongings are also missing from her room."

After a pause, the butler stared down at Harry. "I know of whom you speak," the butler said quickly. "The servant was arrested last night for treason against the King and Queen."

Harry's heart skipped a beat. What he had been dreading had come true. Someone must have heard his and Ms Agnes' conversation.

"What! But she-"

"Boy. You do know that no servant is supposed to be out of their quarters at the moment. If you do not leave at once I shall call the guards to escort you there!" He rudely hissed.

Is that why there was no one in the hallways? Why the servants were being confined to their chambers? Harry did not desire the guards to be notified that he was out and decided to abide by the butler's wishes.

"Yes sir."

Harry turned away with no intention to return to his room. His mind was buzzing and furiously jamming theories together like cogs unfit to wind against one another. Who could have heard them? Who would have told? Ms Agnes did not have any enemies within the castle. Where was she now? Was she okay? Was she alive?

One voice blasted through his panicked thoughts a like a ship, cutting through icy waters. Agnes' last words echoed through his head.

"Their attempts are futile; we will always remember our devotion to a passionate ruler"

After pondering, Harry had come to the conclusion that she was referring to the previous king of Gryffindor. The servant boy had never heard the previous rulers mentioned; which concludes that they are most likely dead or moved away from the castle. However, he may be completely wrong considering his lack of education, especially in the history of past ascendancies and regimes.

Although, curiosity whispered in his ear and urged him to learn about the previous rulers. Perhaps ignited by the strong tone of Ms Agnes' voice that suggested it was an issue important to her.

Harry knew the information was definitely in the castle library. A vast reading sanctuary with books, coating in information and secrets decades old; off limits to anyone but scholars, nobles and the royals.

If a servant was caught unauthorised within the library a punishment of ten lashes would be received; if they were lucky. He winced at this punishment; however he owed it to his old friend. A friend who he would likely never see again.

Luckily, he had exposed a secret passage which delivered straight to the library. It was discovered while he was cleaning, hidden under a strange tapestry, depicting a one eyed witch brewing a cauldron with newts and frogs. Harry was confident no one was aware of its existence and was excited to have proper use for his discovery.

There was no one within the normally bustling corridors and this was an eerie sight. The only sound was the tapping of his footsteps on the reflective floors. So when the servant boy arrived at the passageway no one witnessed him clandestinely slip behind the hangings on the wall and within the stones of the castle.

His small and underfed body only just fit though the claustrophobic and pitch black abyss. His hands and knees were damp from crawling on a mysterious wetness coating the floor. Causing Harry to smell similar to a dirty rag after vigorously cleaning with it.

After squeezing through the dark tunnel for a while, he sighted light streaming through the cracks of the door like drops of gold and cautiously pushed the old and worn door; causing the rusted hinges to squeak precariously.

He had only visited the library twice, but each time was magnificent and took his breath away. Harry had hardly been interested in reading books, but the sheer amount and mightiness of tombs before him made shivers travel down his spine.

They were practically glowing from the multi-coloured lights filtering through the stained glass windows; reflected off the extravagant brass bookshelves. Harry felt slightly overwhelmed with the insurmountable task ahead of him. Locating a specific book within such a large library will be similar to finding a needle in a haystack. He had no idea where anything was or how the books were archived.

Thankfully, he had been taught how to read and write (a rare education among servants) by Edith. Who had been educated at a young age by her father who had worked as a book clerk. However, he was rather slow at processing the foreign letters and had to sound out the words outwardly.

Harry started quickly dragging his eyes along the deep corridors lined with all different types of books. His eyes scanning the titles as swiftly as he could and after a while he eventually figured out the sorting code.

There was no one in the library, but this did not hinder his awareness precautions. Excitedly, he found the assortment of family lineage books he was searching for. Harry read the names with some struggle of the noble Gryffindor families; Brown, Doge, Longbottom, Prewett, Shacklebolt, and Urquart. Some he recalled hearing of their arrival at the castle.

When he reached the end of the corridor, Harry did not find the book he was searching for, so he rechecked the shelves once more. Alas, the book of Gryffindor was nowhere to be seen. Harry let out an exasperated sigh and leaned against the expensive bookshelf.

He reaped his brain for a solution. Why wouldn't the Gryffindor lineage be out in the royal library? Unless it was in the king's private library?

That's it! With his parents' names clearly visible on the family tree, of course the Dursleys would not want it lying around for any scholar to read. Especially with the presence of greedy nobles who will do anything to take advantage of the royals.

Sneaking into the royal chamber was extremely risky. The punishments were deathly extreme. Harry recalled one butler who had accessed the chamber with no apparent reason, the man... Nick if he remembered correctly was beheaded in front of all the servants for breaking into the Royal Library. The King and Queen were there; proclaiming him a spy. It has taken three attempts to successfully separate his head from his body.  
There was an awkward silence between each swish of blade, Harry imagined Petunia pursing her wrinkled lips in displeasure. Luckily, Edith had violently slammed her hands over Harry's eyes; despite being only of five years of age at that time he knew what that frightening thump meant.

His brain was sending his body messages of decline, but his heart was accepting his frightening mission. Thump. Thump. Thump. The sound of the Butler's head echoing against the wood was replaying over and over in his mind. Creating a chaotic mixture with Agnes' last sentence.

Perhaps he should wait a few days and plan? His brain whispered; and the servant considered this proposal eagerly. Breaking into the private chambers of the king and queen was no easy feat. He had a sinking feeling that told him that it wouldn't end well; however as the silence rang true around him, he knew such empty corridors did not happen often.

With a steady step, Harry made his decision to steal the book. A book that manifests the final words of his old friend.


End file.
